Godless

by James Dobson

  Never mind that the pastor reported to the entire board, not just the chairman.

  Never mind that the board had backed his decision to draft the letter.

  And never mind that every word of the accusation against Alex had been false.

  Phil Crawford had decided that Alex needed to go.

  “Our members will want to know who’s responsible for such a sizable financial hit,” Phil had said. “Sooner or later they’ll learn that your activism ended up costing this church more than we can afford to lose.”

  Alex had a pretty good idea who would inform them.

  Tears filled Tamara’s eyes. Alex moved close to wrap his arms around his best friend and lover. She smothered herself in his embrace.

  “It isn’t right. You know it isn’t right.”

  Tension melted into sobbing. Alex felt himself succumb to the same emotion. The jarring shock of injustice had transformed their youthful optimism into wounded betrayal. What was worse, he couldn’t fulfill a husband’s role. He ached to shield Tamara from the shrapnel the board’s decision would bring. But he couldn’t protect her. He felt as if his manhood had been stolen away.

  He tried anyway.

  “Listen,” he said, gently cradling his bride’s moist face in his hands, “there’s no need for us to panic. God will use this for good, I know it.”

  Or at least he hoped it.

  “We have three months to figure things out.”

  “Three months?” Tamara asked. “What do you mean?”

  “The board said that if I resign they’ll give me a three-month severance package, possibly more.”

  She repositioned herself within Alex’s embrace. “You should demand six months. No, a year.”

  That would be a stretch. But Alex did have some leverage.

  “Of course,” Phil had said, “we’d like to handle your resignation in a manner that will protect you and your family from unwarranted speculation and damaging rumors. That’s why I’ve agreed to explain the reason for your resignation to the congregation myself.”

  “And what reason would that be?”

  “Simple. Your love for the people of Christ Community Church motivated you to avert a damaging scandal.”

  “And that’s supposed to prevent speculation and rumors?”

  “Don’t worry,” Phil had said while placing a paternal hand on his pastor’s shoulder. “I’ll be sure to give the announcement a positive spin. Some of the younger families at Christ Community really like you, Alex. I see no reason to disillusion them or cause them to question your integrity.”

  It had been a not-so-veiled threat, one that tortured Alex during the six hours he had spent staring at the ceiling while waiting for Tamara to wake.

  If he refused the severance offer he would risk destroying his own reputation, not to mention the church’s. The look in Phil’s eyes had made it clear that he wasn’t bluffing: one way or another Alex needed to go. He should probably accept the offer to sidestep a battle he would no doubt lose.

  He recalled the story Ellie Baxter had shared about her husband. Reverend Baxter had lost his ministry even though he had done absolutely nothing wrong. Sure, he’d landed on his feet. The Lord had even opened doors for them to launch a successful business. But Alex knew himself incapable of similar fortune. He wasn’t wired to become an entrepreneur. He was called to be a pastor.

  Tamara reached for a tissue and dried her tears. She took a determined breath. “So,” she said, “what’s our next move?”

  Not your next move. Our next move. The question buoyed Alex’s spirit. He and Tamara were in this together, come what might.

  “I’m not sure,” he said while inviting her back into his arms. “Phil wanted an immediate answer, but I told him I would let him know next week.”

  “I bet he loved that,” she said sardonically.

  The sound of a different cry wafted from the adjoining bedroom. Baby Joseph was ready for his early-morning feeding.

  Kevin chuckled at the reminder.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Tamara.

  “Perfect timing,” he said. “At the precise moment you ask what’s next you get a summons.”

  Tamara sat up to look in her husband’s eyes. He offered a wink.

  “I may not know how we’ll make a living,” he began. “But I know our most important work is nowhere near done.”

  “I love you, Mr. Breeder,” she said while squeezing her husband’s torso.

  “And I love you, Mrs. Bright Spot.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mrs. Mayhew appeared distraught. “Where have you been?” she asked while nervously fidgeting with one earring.

  “What’s wrong?” Alex asked while closing the front office door.

  “Did you lose your phone?” she asked urgently.

  He felt his pocket. “Nope. Right here. Why?”

  “I’ve been calling and messaging for nearly an hour.”

  He glanced at the screen. “Oh,” he said with surprise, “I’m sorry. I must have forgotten to turn it back on this morning. I had kind of a rough night.”

  She glowered at the oversight. “Well you certainly had me worried.”

  Alex could only think of one thing that would have put Mrs. Mayhew so on edge. “Phil Crawford?”

  A puzzled look. “What about him?”

  “Does he want to speak to me?”

  “How on earth should I know?”

  “Isn’t that what has you so upset?”

  “I didn’t say I was upset,” she insisted. “I said I was worried.”

  “Worried about what?”

  “About what that young man might do.”

  “What young man?” asked Alex.

  “The one who came before.” She raised a hand to one side of her mouth and began to whisper. “And if you ask me, he looks even more disturbed than he did the last time. ”

  “You mean he’s here? Now?”

  “He’s waiting in your office.”

  “When did he get here?” Alex glanced at the time.

  “He was standing outside the office door when I arrived, waiting for someone to let him in.” She whispered again. “I’ve been a nervous wreck. You never know what a man like that might do to a helpless woman who can’t track down the pastor. I told him you would arrive no later than eight thirty. That was fifteen minutes ago.”

  Alex placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mayhew.”

  Her arms crossed and her brow furrowed like an angry child’s.

  Forgiveness would need to wait.

  * * *

  He found the man bowing his head in prayer, or perhaps despair. Alex reached into his memory to recall a name. “Frank?”

  His guest shot up from the chair and lifted his eyes. “Um, yes, that’s right.” He turned to face the pastor self-consciously. “I hope you don’t mind. I really need to talk.”

  “Please, sit,” Alex insisted, waving the troubled soul back toward the sofa. “Can I get you something? A bottled water perhaps?”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  That’s when Alex noticed an inflamed welt on the man’s left ear and a large stream of what looked like blood on his sleeve. “Good heavens, are you injured?”

  Frank glanced down at the stain, then shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  Alex recalled their last visit. Frank had run out of the room when pressed. He decided not to push for details about the blood. “OK,” he said while taking the seat across from his anxious guest, “I’m listening.”

  “When I came before you said everything I say would be kept confidential.”

  “Within limits, that’s true.”

  “What limits?”

  “Well, I would alert the authorities if I knew you had molested a child, as one example.”

  “I would never do that!” Frank said crossly.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Alex. “How about telling me what’s on your mind?”

  T
he man closed his eyes while massaging forehead and temples. He appeared to be weighing the risk of talking against the torture of silence. “OK,” he finally said. “But I’m going to speak hypothetically.”

  Alex considered the idea. “Fine,” he said.

  The man inhaled deeply. “If a person did something illegal because someone else tricked him, would he be guilty of the crime?”

  “You’ll need to be more specific. What kind of crime?”

  Frank looked like a man scanning a mental map to find an indirect route to his intended destination. “Well, not a crime, actually.”

  “Then what?”

  “A medical procedure. Something perfectly legal in one instance but potentially criminal in another.”

  “I don’t follow,” said Alex, staring at the blood on his guest’s sleeve. “Are you saying you’ve carried out an unlawful medical procedure?”

  The man’s head dropped again. “Not exactly. And sort of.”

  Alex sensed the man needed a nudge toward courage. “Listen to me, Frank. I can’t offer any advice if you don’t tell me why you came. You said you needed to talk. So talk.”

  A brief silence.

  “All right. But I need you to promise you won’t repeat it to anyone.”

  “Does it involve child abuse or murder?”

  He hesitated as if weighing his answer. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Then what you say will remain between the two of us.”

  The promise loosened Frank’s tongue. “I need to confess.”

  “Like I said before, I’m not a priest, but—”

  “Not that kind of confession. I’m not after forgiveness for sin. I want protection from danger.”

  “What kind of danger?”

  “Someone framed me for a murder I didn’t commit. Then he tricked me into doing something that looks really bad. But I didn’t break any laws.”

  “Why not alert the authorities?”

  “No police!” the man snapped. “Like I said, I haven’t done anything illegal. But the person framing me has. I want him exposed.”

  “If you’ve done nothing illegal why not go to the police?”

  “Because they won’t believe me,” said Frank.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I just know, OK?”

  Alex met the man’s eyes. “Does this have anything to do with your nightmares, Frank?”

  The question seemed to surprise, and alarm.

  “You told me you were destroying icons in your dreams. Still?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but they’ve gotten worse.”

  “The dreams?”

  A slow, tormented sigh. “If they are dreams.”

  Alex waited.

  “Do you remember what you said last time?” asked Frank. “About Ivan?”

  “In The Brothers Karamazov?”

  “That’s right. The atheist.”

  Alex reached for the memory. “I believe I said Ivan went mad.”

  “You said he went mad after a conversation with the devil.”

  “Have you had conversations with the devil, Frank?” Alex wondered what he would say if the answer was yes.

  Frank’s eyes darted back and forth as if scanning for an intruder. “I don’t know about the devil,” he confessed, “but I’ve seen some pretty scary stuff.”

  Alex felt a sudden chill. Perhaps Mrs. Mayhew’s alarm had been justified after all. Something, he sensed, had been tormenting his guest that could not be perceived with mortal eyes.

  An apparition? Possibly.

  Madness? Perhaps.

  Both manifestations of the same age-old disorder.

  “Listen to me, Frank,” Alex began. “Regardless of what you’ve seen or heard, there is only one way to escape what’s behind the dread I see in your eyes.”

  The man fixed his gaze on the pastor as he continued.

  “Like I told you before, the devil is a liar. That’s what makes him even more dangerous than whoever you think is trying to frame you.”

  “I know someone’s trying to frame me!”

  “Fine. Someone is trying to frame you, then. It doesn’t change the fact that the enemy of your soul is the greater threat. The first can get you thrown in jail. But the second can make you lose both your mind and your soul.”

  The man’s body tensed.

  “I have no idea what you’ve done, Frank. But no matter what it is, it’s never too late to repent.”

  “I told you before,” said Frank crossly, “I don’t believe in sin.”

  “Yes, you told me that. But you also said you don’t believe in God or the devil. Yet here you are, scared to death that one or both of them is on your heels.”

  “I never said that!”

  “No, but it’s why you came, isn’t it, Frank? You’re trying to decide which is worse: submitting to a holy God or falling prey to a ravenous devil. Trust me, Frank, you don’t want the second. Admit your sin. Accept God’s grace. Embrace sanity rather than madness!”

  “I’m not going mad!” Frank shouted as if drowning out the possibility. “And I haven’t committed any sin.”

  “All have sinned, Frank. Every single one of us is infected with a disease that drives us away from goodness, health, love, and joy. But Jesus Christ dealt a death blow to evil so that we could find freedom from sin’s bondage.”

  “Stop using that word!” Frank pressed his hands over his ears like a child frightened by the sound of thunder. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” he shouted as if trying to convince himself. “I serve the greater good! I end suffering. I free people from decay!”

  The room fell silent. Frank uncovered his ears. He looked embarrassed. “I have to go.”

  “Please,” said Alex, “don’t. Let me help.”

  He remained in the room. A good sign, thought Alex.

  “Tell me who you freed, Frank. Whose suffering did you end? Someone you loved?”

  No response.

  “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

  “I will,” he said. “But I need to take care of something first. Can we talk again?”

  “Of course,” said Alex. “When?”

  “I’ll let you know. But I need your promise. Complete confidentiality, like confessing to a priest.”

  Alex thought for a moment. What choice did he have? “OK. Complete confidentiality.”

  “Then I’ll talk to you soon,” Frank said before rushing out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Julia felt the man’s hand pulling her up out of the water. She noticed his feet, then her own. Both of them were walking on the surface toward a white, sandy beach basking in the warmth of a rising sun. The abrupt sense of security mixed with anticipation dispelled what she had been feeling moments before.

  The ache of grief, not for herself but for those sinking into the shadowy depths below.

  The horror of sacrilege as she witnessed stunning beauty thrashed beyond recognition, majestic icons horribly disfigured.

  And the helplessness of watching other victims shake angry fists at the man’s outstretched hand.

  Like her, they could have been lifted toward the tender grace of light rather than sinking into a bleak cruelty. Their lungs, like hers, could have filled with the fresh air of hope instead of the dark water of despair. And their faces, like hers, could have beamed at the smiling acceptance of a father rather than recoiling from the profane caress of a killer.

  She woke at the chilly exposure of a vanishing blanket and the urgent sound of Amanda’s voice. “Hurry up, Mom!”

  “What time is it?” she asked as a spear of panic forced her head from the pillow.

  “Ten past nine,” came her daughter’s urgent reply. “I’m gonna be late for tryouts!”

  That’s when Julia remembered. Despite Troy’s resistance to the idea, Amanda had signed up to become a cheerleader thanks to Julia’s willingness to second the motion.

  Three minutes later the two raced away from the driveway towa
rd Littleton Middle School. Julia had thrown on a pair of ugly sweats before running out the door. Amanda had managed to find a clean pair of shorts and slip into her most flattering yellow T-shirt.

  “Great!” she groaned in horror while inspecting the visor mirror. “I would get a zit on the day of tryouts!”

  Julia smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she said. “You look fine.”

  Something felt off.

  “No,” she corrected. “You look beautiful.”

  Amanda extended her hand toward Julia’s disheveled hair, the same hair Amanda had admired since the day they met. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “So do you.”

  Julia glanced at her makeup-deprived face in the rearview mirror, then accepted the embellished compliment with a peck on Amanda’s hand.

  “What was that for?” Amanda asked while cradling the echo of a kiss.

  “For accepting me as your mom,” said Julia.

  Amanda grinned.

  They pulled onto the campus parking lot before Julia thought of Troy. “Wait,” she said, “I thought your father said he would drive you to tryouts on his way to work.”

  “He left before I got up,” Amanda explained.

  It wasn’t like Troy to forget a commitment, especially one that involved Amanda.

  “He left a note,” Amanda continued. “Didn’t you see it?”

  “What did it say?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Something about an emergency and that he had to run off to the hospital.”

  “The hospital!”

  But Amanda was already out the door, rushing toward a horde of adolescent girls in search of sideline glory.

  “Troy?” she said after tapping his smiling image on her phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Hi, babe. I didn’t want to wake you. Did you get my note?”

  “Amanda read it. What emergency?”

  “Kevin called this morning. His parents are at University Hospital and he wanted me to keep an eye on them until his plane arrives.”

  “What happened?”

  Troy explained. Julia became more and more furious with each detail of the story.

  “Someone accidentally scheduled them for an at-home transition?”

  “It’s more likely someone was targeting them.”

  “Why would anyone want to kill Jim and Gayle? And why make it look like a transition?”